James Gartenberg

James Gartenberg died on September 11, 2001. I never knew him; couldn't even identify his face in a crowd. Somehow, this name has stayed with me throughout these past 7 years, 6(ish) months, and it all began on the year anniversary of the tragedy.

I watched "Good Morning America's" 9/11 memorial coverage on the morning of September 11, 2002; I remember in the lower right hand corner, instead of the usual 'abc' logo, there was the number '9' followed by an '11' except the 11 was made to look like the twin towers of the WTC. They were playing video excerpts from the year prior as the disaster was unfolding, and one was of a man who'd called in to GMA from one of the towers. It was around 9:15 when James Gartenberg called in; I don't even remember what he did for a living, and I don't recall them showing a picture of him, only that he'd called in to assure everyone that he and his co-workers, inside Tower 2, were okay. At that moment, as America watched the billowing towers on morning news programs around the country, I think we really needed that confirmation that, although from the outside it appeared dire, from the inside, a voice of hope: things seemed okay.

Sadly, James Gartenberg died.

The clip was over, and they welcomed James's wife and newborn baby, Jamie, onto the show. What was said afterwards I don't really remember. All I know is that James Gartenberg represents, for me, that faceless hero/victim of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Luckily, I knew no one personally who perished, but James is the name I seem to remember and always follow. When they show a reel of victims names, post a banner with alphabetical listings of those who died, I always look for, and inevitably seek out, James Gartenberg.

I never knew the man, nor will I probably ever meet his wife or daughter Jamie. The only like I have to him is a faint, crackling voice over a phone line on the morning of September 11, 2001. That's it. Who knows what he was like; a loving father and devoted husband, or promiscuous womanizer with a mean streak. Maybe he was a broker or investment banker inside the WTC; maybe a cafeteria employee. He might have treated all around him with respect, or been the boss from hell. Either way, James's call that morning gave us a glimmer of hope, even though looking back the whole ordeal just got worse and ended in even more tragedy. Whether knowingly or unkowningly, James was a soothing presence that morning that remained calm although buildings buckled around him.

I guess that's the way it is, though; the connection we have with some people in our lives is merely a mention on the news, a name on the wall, or a fleeting glance on the street. I give people directions all the time if they ask me. Who knows, maybe prior to 9/11, I gave James Gartenberg directions. Guess I'll never know.